The Labors of Sisyphus
by B.L.A. the Mouse
Summary: Definition: What you do when your ship's broken. Again.


Summary: Definition: What you do when your ship's broken. Again.

Codes: None

Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to _Andromeda_. All I did was borrow it for use in my twisted little tale.

Spoilers: None

Rating: PG

Setting: Sometime first season.

Feedback: I love praise and constructive criticism, but flames will be promptly delivered to the nearest fire station.

Archive: Ask first and I'll probably say yes.

Authors Note: This is actually an older story that I found while cleaning out the drifts of paper in one corner. I thought it merited typing and posting. Enjoy!

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The Labors of Sisyphus

By B.L.A. the Mouse

Beka Valentine walked into the cockpit of her ship and sighed. She rested her hands on her hips as she took inventory of the damage. To her left, a grille leaked foul-smelling black smoke, and to her right several panels crackled and popped, spilling sparks. She stepped forward, avoiding dripping coolant fluid, to better see the half-melted wiring strewn across the front panel; even as she watched, one strand ignited. She blew out the flame, but when she leaned on the interceding railing it lurched and screeched.

"Dammit!"

* * *

Stretching, arms above her head, Beka rolled her head backwards. Whatever Dylan had tried pulling off this trip had fried the PSL engines. He'd barely managed to get the _Maru_ back to the _Andromeda_. And once again, she was stuck doing repairs deep in the bowels of her ship.

She shoved the damp clumps of hair off of her forehead and squinted at the open panel. She'd been staring at the wires and lenses and circuit boards for so long that not only her eyes were aching but her head too. "One coffee break," she promised herself, "one _short_ coffee break, then back to work."

She thought of the other three sections that she still had to go through, groaned, and thudded her head against the nearest wall.

* * *

Beka had twisted her hair back before she started repairs, but it was already pulling loose and brushing her shoulders. She ignored it, focusing on the wiring in front of her. Tyr had somehow popped a circuit somewhere that meant that the water processes were down throughout the ship. Trance, in the spirit of helpfulness, had tried repairing it and only succeeded in taking out every single kitchen appliance and all the lights in the living areas.

As a result, Beka had spent the last two hours tracking down the exact junction that the two systems had connected at, and that was after spending four or five hours- she'd lost track- repairing the two separate systems.

Now she made sure that everything was set up for the final rewiring. She eased out the damaged connector and replaced it with a new one, then picked up the end of the (also brand-new) wire and twisted it into place on one side. Carefully, she started to fit the end of the other (newly installed) wire into the opposite side. If she didn't do this carefully, she would-

Electric blue arced across her vision as the shock threw her back against the wall. She snatched her burned, stinging fingers back from the ends of the wires that she still held as the competing smells of ozone and burning plasti-rubber scorched her nostrils. All around her lights flickered and then snapped off as the surge shorted them out.

Beka panted, staring accusingly at what was surely a mass of melted wiring and fused parts. She couldn't actually see it, as it was shrouded in the darkness that is only a space freighter without even emergency lights, but she knew it was there. Tentatively, she reached up and touched her loose hair; it was standing out from her scalp at an unnatural angle, and abraded her sore fingertips.

"First Med deck. Then Harper."

* * *

Her fingers had only just healed from the burns of over a week before. It had taken almost that long to get all the static out of her hair. Of course, it had been just long enough for Rommie and Rev to destroy something else. The two of them hadn't even made it to the first slipportal before they broke her ship. Of course, they said that it had happened spontaneously, but listening to their description made her think that they'd tried pushing the _Maru_ too hard- it was still touchy from the mass rewiring.

As a result of the strain, several systems had given up entirely, and in the process had derailed the programs _and_ the pipes, conduits, and components. A lot of the systems had to be completely realigned, and some had to be repaired physically first. So now she was standing in her unlivable ship, next to several unusable pipes, with stained coveralls and tender fingers, and about to attempt major starship surgery. By. Herself.

Beka was all for being a fiercely independent starship captain, but this was ridiculous.

She ignored the headache that was beginning to bloom behind her eyes and focused instead on making sure that she was working on the correct pipe. When she was positive, she started unfastening the connections that held that segment in place. As the last one came loose, she braced herself to jump back if it fell badly.

It didn't, at least at first. She'd shut off that pipeline, full as it was of lubricant, and let it drain off. Somehow, however, the draining off had not happened. The thick liquid started spraying out around both edges of the pipe section, covering the walls and the other pipes with green goo. Beka squinted, held a hand over her face, and tried to shore up the pipe with her elbow and tighten the fastener one-handed.

Instead the pipe shifted further, and a thick jet squirted out, catching her full in the face at the exact angle to get under her hand. She wiped it away, succeeding in tightening one fastener and starting on another. She might have managed from there if the _Maru_ hadn't kicked on some obscure part of its brain just then and announced, in its normal monotone, "Reinitiating lubricant flow."

"No, oh no..." Beka pleaded frantically as she threw herself into tightening bolts, but the surge came too soon. She tried holding it in place, but the first blast of goo knocked it askew, pouring out onto her coveralls. Then, with an ominous creak, the beleaguered fasteners gave entirely.

She watched in a frozen sort of horror as the section of pipe fell and crashed into the pipes below. They'd been shut off, but not drained. The pipe in the middle began spouting runny purple coolant, a fountain of fluid that sprayed over her and dyed whatever wasn't green purple. She spun around, facing away, but the fire-suppression foam flared out before she was all the way around, coating hair and skin and coveralls, and the water splashed against her knees and leaked into her boots.

She covered her face, with what good that did after the lubricant and the coolant, and waited for the flow to ebb. When it finally did, she squelched through her ship to the cutoff valves for each line, sighing when she got to the last one. Beka rested her head against the wall, leaving behind a smear of magenta, then trudged to her quarters aboard the _Andromeda_ for a shower. When she saw herself in the mirror, she actually whimpered.

Then she got mad.

* * *

Harper didn't recognize the creature that stormed onto Command deck as Beka, at least until it started swearing at him in languages that he almost-but-not-quite recognized. Dylan and Rev looked similarly taken aback, while Tyr blinked at the spectacle. Rommie merely got the expression that meant that she was consulting her mainframe, and Trance just grinned. Unfazed by the reactions that she garnered, his Technicolor captain kept cursing what he was pretty sure was his ancestry, abilities, and future descendents, and not just his, either, as she spat vitriol at everyone in shifting languages.

Dylan interrupted. "Beka, as impressed as I am by your knowledge of obscenities in- how many languages?"

"Fifteen. Plus two that my computer banks apparently don't contain. What _are_ they?" Rommie seemed more puzzled than affronted.

Beka blinked; even her eyelashes were striped purple and green, with a magenta stripe or two that he was pretty sure was due to a reaction with the fire suppression foam still drying and dripping off her splotched coveralls. "I didn't know that was possible."

"It is."

She would have continued, but Dylan cleared his throat. "As impressed as we all are, we would like to know _why_ we're getting yelled at in fifteen-plus languages."

"I can imagine why," Tyr rumbled, leaning forward to stare intently at Beka.

"Because your superior intellect and senses can tell coolant and fire foam better than the average humans," Harper snarked, stepping forward to more closely examine the stuff coating Beka.

"That's _exactly_ why," she spat, and he fell back involuntarily. "This is from me trying to repair the damage that _you_ all did. Ive spent the last _month_ rerouting circuits, and replacing pipes, and being electrocuted and sprayed with this," indicating, "and I _haven't caused any of it!_" Her voice rose into a roar, and when Dylan tried interrupting again she steamrolled right over him.

"I put my bridge back together, I fixed the PSL engines, I rewired half the damn _ship_, and I just tried replacing all the pipes that you destroyed! The only one that helped at all was Harper, and he's the only one that didn't break it in the first place! I don't care why or how you did it, I don't care which of you did it. I'm tired of fixing every damn thing you guys break just 'cause it's my ship. I want you to repair my ship- _all_ of you!"

Harper had warily moved behind her during her tirade, not wanting to be in front of her while she unleashed her temper. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Trance and Rev doing the same. He felt sorry for the other three, who really didn't know better and foolishly stayed in front of Beka.

"If I have to repair one more thing you broke, if I have to go without water or power on my ship, my _home_, because of your boneheaded decisions and complete lack of mechanical _anything_, I'm taking over your quarters and you can spent the night- no, you can spend however long it takes to get my ship repaired- in a dark, dripping, rapidly _rusting_ cabin!"

Dylan seemed at a loss. "Well... I..."

"I don't believe that the 'breaking' of your ship was intentional," Rommie informed her. Her head was tilted to the side, and she had a quizzical expression on her face.

And that really set Beka off.

* * *

Beka grinned as the coffee machine produced a stream of the greatest liquid known to the universe. Granted, the water came from a hookup with the _Andromeda_, but the power came from the _Maru_. As did the comforting hum under her feet, the gurgling of pipes over her head, the faraway pulse of the engines going through a warm-up cycle... "Nothing like a running ship." She patted the strut above her head, then yelled down the length of the ship, "Anyone want more caffeine?"

Two noes, one yes, and a promise of sexual pleasure-on-demand. She filled second and third cups and headed down the hallway.

"Beka," Trance bounced up to her looking hurt, "Harper won't let me rewire the air circulation."

She had a moment of panic. "Uh, I think he's got it under control. Why don't you check on Alphonse, I think his soil was dry."

"Okay!" and she was gone.

Beka smiled, relieved, and went toward the clanging that signified a High Guard work team. She waved one of the steaming mugs under Dylan's nose and watched as he turned his head to follow the smell.

"Don't distract him until I weld this joint." Rommie frowned as she wielded the nanowelder with intense concentration before setting it down. "He can take a break now."

"Thank you, Rommie." Dylan took the cup and leaned against the bulkhead.

"So, why is _she_ welding and _you're_ holding up the pipes?" Beka smirked. "After all, she's stronger, isnt she?"

"Yes, but she's more accurate with the welder. She says." Dylan gave them both an exhausted smile.

"Don't worry, you only have ten more pipes to go." Beka clapped him on the back and gave Rommie a conspiratorial smile before heading off. Up ahead, Harper was crouched in an alcove working on the air circulation system, diagnostic wand clutched between his teeth. When he caught sight of her, he leaned back against the wall and put down all of his tools, spitting out the wand.

"Beka, I gotta say, I'm not sure which is more beautiful, you or that mug."

"According to you, five minutes ago it was me." She passed him the coffee and sat down opposite him.

"You can't deny a deprived man the comfort of irrationality." He took a long sip. "Okay, yeah, it's an even tie."

Beka swatted at him, riffling his spikes. "Punk." They were silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Why are you even doing this? You do more repairs of both ships than you do damage, you should be off doing... whatever perverted things you do in your spare time."

"Aw, come on, Boss. You know no one else is going to do much. Even your flaying can't inspire Tyr to do more than he has to. Have you seen him at all since he hooked up the water flow? And Trance and Rev are hopeless. You've got me, Captain Terrific, and Rom-doll, and I'm your best weapon. Besides," he grinned, "I want to be around when you decide to take up my offer."

She left him laughing and headed back to her own coffee, stopping along the way to collect Dylan's cup.

"Oh, Beka?" he asked, straining to hold up another pipe. "I was wondering: 'boneheaded decisions'?"

"Oh... About that..."

****

The End


End file.
